


Fucking Cardassians

by vocal_fries



Series: Subtext Becomes Text [5]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: (sorry), Anal Sex, Angst, DS9 S2E5 Cardassians, Foot Fetish, M/M, Massage, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Smut, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 07:59:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vocal_fries/pseuds/vocal_fries
Summary: Bashir realizes a lot, while Garak says little. And both of them are having a hard time keeping their hands to themselves. Set during the episode “Cardassians,” S2E5 of DS9.





	Fucking Cardassians

**Author's Note:**

> Their dialogue in the last scene is largely quoted directly from the original episode, with little additions and changes to better transition with my noncanonical story arcs. All credit for these quoted passage is gratefully attributed to the writers of “Cardassians.”

Julian Bashir arrived twenty minutes early to the replimat for lunch with Garak. He needed to decompress from a busy morning at the infirmary before dealing with his date. Blowing lightly on a steaming cup of Tarkalean tea, he stared at the empty chair across from him.

 _Soon, it’ll be a little less empty,_ he thought, chest tightening under a wave of mixed emotions. _But just a bit._

He thought back to the night before he’d put Garak into medical stasis to protect him during the invasion of Deep Space 9 by militant Bajoran nationalists. He and Garak had crossed some kind of unspoken threshold. Garak had seemed more trusting and vulnerable than Julian had ever seen him, all honest eyes and sweet caresses, quiet words and uncomplicated affection. But from the moment he’d revived the Cardassian, Garak had been the same unreadable tailor-spy-enigma Bashir had contended with for the better part of a year.

_The best part of the year._

Julian sipped his tea and sighed. Whatever intimacy he and Garak had shared the night before the siege, whatever intimacy had been building through their growing physical and intellectual trust, it had stayed in stasis when he woke Garak. They still had lunch together. They still debated literature and bantered endlessly. They still had sex regularly. Everything they did was nominally the same, except Garak had retreated behind his opaque smiles and politeness after only just shedding them. It made enough logical sense to Julian, who understood that Garak had defined their relationship as explicitly non-romantic, but he felt wounded nonetheless. Their relationship had been developing, and he felt as if Garak had awoken running an old backup version of their dynamic.

 _I should stop seeing him,_ he thought, for the fiftieth or thousandth time. But every time Bashir considered breaking off their routine of lunch debates, the prospect of seeking intellectual stimulation elsewhere seemed too bleak to be borne. And when he tried to convince himself he was satisfied enough sleeping with occasional visitors to the station, he more often than not ended up with an aching erection at the memory of Garak’s touch.

Bashir sipped his tea. _Maybe if I date someone who’s comfortable with non-monogamy, Garak’s distance will occupy less of my attention._ Julian had noticed a very shapely, dark-skinned Bajoran woman newly assigned to Odo’s security team. She was beautiful, and most Bajoran women Bashir knew well were an attractive mix of sweet, practical, and fiery. Besides the new deputy, the chocolatier on the Promenade had recently hired a gorgeous Betazoid man with the chiseled shoulders and chest of an ancient Roman statue. The idea of fucking a telepath both excited and terrified Bashir, something he’d been afraid the man might sense if he lingered too long at the shop.

 _Maybe. But what does it mean if I’m planning a theoretical real relationship around maintaining whatever_ this _is with Garak?_ Julian’s thought process derailed when he saw Garak enter the replimat. _Five minutes early._ Bashir’s lips twitched into half a smile. _Of course._

“Ah, my dear doctor! You’re here before me,” Garak said, almost warmly, as he occupied the chair Bashir had been staring at for fifteen minutes.

“Garak,” he said, squeezing the older man’s ridged shoulder as he stood. He refilled his Tarkalean tea and ordered a meal before returning to the table.

As they discussed Garak’s morning in his tailor shop, Bashir felt increasingly frustrated. Garak was parrying, jabbing, being as coolly charming as ever. Annoyed, Julian became more snide than usual, arguing for its own sake, making pointed remarks about trust and honesty at every opportunity. When Garak stood to speak to the Cardassian youth who had entered the replimat with a Bajoran man, the doctor suspected it was as much to flee the conversation as to greet the boy.

Bashir’s irritation abruptly turned to shocked concern when the boy bit Garak’s hand. His examination in the infirmary confirmed the bite wasn’t serious, but the protective feeling remained.

“Are you still feeling pain?” he asked, holding Garak’s hand gently while he ran the dermal regenerator over the bite.

“No doctor, your hypospray was quite effective, thank you,” Garak replied politely.

“Good.” Julian finished the regeneration process, squeezed Garak’s hand lightly, and pressed a kiss over the healed tissue.

“Doctor! My, with bedside manner like this, people will be provoking bites just to see you,” Garak exclaimed, raising a brow ridge flirtatiously.

Bashir rolled his eyes. Glancing around to confirm they were alone, he leaned in and kissed the Cardassian. He heard the older man’s breath hitch in quiet surprise, and Garak’s free hand found Bashir’s neck and stroked softly, fingers teasing his hairline. An urgent arousal spread through Bashir’s body at the touch.

“Let’s go to my office,” Bashir murmured against Garak’s lips, pulling him by his healed hand. The Cardassian looked surprised, but he followed wordlessly.

As soon as Bashir had keyed in the locking code behind them, he pressed Garak against the door and began sucking and nipping the exposed ridges of his neck. Bashir wedged a thigh between Garak’s legs, pressing his hardening cock against Garak’s hip. Strong hands found Julian’s buttocks and squeezed, pulling them into firmer contact.

“Do you do this for all your patients, doctor?” Garak asked, voice thick as he caressed the young man’s ass.

Bashir frowned and kissed Garak again, silencing him. He rutted hard against Garak’s hip, panting against his lips as his tongue probed the Cardassian’s mouth. He slipped a hand into Garak’s pants and moaned when he found the older man’s ajan wet. Julian slid fingers between the wet lips, pushing deep until he felt Garak’s hard prUt.

Bashir stroked the base of Garak’s prUt firmly, urgently, drawing heavy breaths from the man. When Julian moved back to Garak’s neck and began grinding his teeth over the Cardassian’s favorite set of scales, he felt the prUt slip out into his hand.

Wasting no time, he unfastened Garak’s trousers and pushed them down to mid thigh before doing the same to his own pants. Bashir held his cock against the slick prUt in his hands, using long swirling strokes to coat his erection in Garak’s natural lubricant. Then he knelt and eagerly took Garak’s prUt in his mouth.

______

Garak leaned against the door as he felt Julian’s mouth surround the length of his throbbing prUt. He breathed deeply to keep himself from moaning aloud at the sight of the young man stroking himself feverishly while his mouth worked hungrily.

Garak closed his eyes, trying to maintain his composure, but the unexpected heat in the human’s demeanor had caught him off guard. When he glanced down at Julian again, the young man was staring up into his eyes. Bashir’s mouth stretched obscenely with every bob of his head, and his body shook with the tension of his arm movements as he jerked his slick, dripping cock. Garak’s hips jerked involuntarily as he stared, mesmerized by the wanton scene before him.

_He is so beautiful._

The fingers of Bashir’s free hand encircled the thick base of Garak’s prUt, and he felt the sweet-hot tension boil over. He bit the sleeve of his own shirt to keep from crying out at the intensity of his orgasm. He felt a strangled vibration from Bashir’s throat tease out the last of his ejaculate as the young man came a moment later.

Garak’s knees felt weak, and he slid down the door until he was seated, leaning against it. Julian leaned forward and lay against Garak. Their panting was the only sound for a long moment.

Garak regarded the young human. Julian lay in the V-shaped space formed by Garak’s torso and knees, eyes closed, breathing deeply. An arm loosely encircled one of Garak’s thighs, and the other hand absently caressed Garak’s ankle.

Garak’s heart constricted at the sight. _So affectionate and so trusting. I deserve none of it._

He had been trying to reestablish reasonable boundaries with Bashir to more accurately reflect the nature of their relationship after realizing how out of control things had become. _How out of control I had become._ As expected, Julian had resisted his efforts, but Garak had gradually won back the space he’d relinquished. Today’s passion, for lack of a better word, had surprised him. He and Julian still met for sex often, but Bashir had stopped initiating unplanned sexual encounters shortly after Garak had renewed his commitment to maintaining appropriate boundaries. Typically, this sort of tryst had begun in a moment of emotional intensity, and there had been less of that lately.

It took longer than he cared to admit, but Garak managed to work up the resolve to excuse himself. Physically, he felt profoundly satisfied, but he was concerned that lingering would send the wrong message.

“That was wonderful, my dear,” he said, smiling politely as he gently squeezed the young man’s shoulder to rouse him. “I feel quite healed.”

Julian sat up, meeting Garak’s gaze. His eyes looked cold, sullen. “Good,” he said flatly, then stood up in one smooth motion. After he pulled his pants back up, he held out a hand to help Garak to his feet.

The Cardassian studied the younger man as he accepted his hand. _He looks angry._

“I’m needed on the bridge,” Bashir said abruptly. He waited by the door as Garak fastened his trousers. When he unlocked the door of his office, he left without saying anything more.

_My dear._

_______

As Garak and Bashir departed for Bajor, Garak felt apprehensive about spending three hours in a runabout with the man he was trying to keep at arm’s length. On the station, he could always find an excuse to cut a conversation short, but here, he’d have nowhere to go.

His fears proved perceptive.

Fifteen minutes into the journey, Bashir turned to face Garak, eyes serious. “Garak, we need to talk.”

“About what, my dear doctor?” Garak asked, voice light with all the casual innocence he could muster.

Bashir sighed loudly. “You know what, Garak. You’ve been acting distant for weeks. What’s going on?”

Garak raised his brow ridges in careful surprise. “Distant? My dear, we had lunch just today, and as I recall, I came in your mouth not an hour later.”

Bashir narrowed his eyes in irritation. “Yes, we see each other. Yes, we fuck. But you’re different. We were building trust before I put you in stasis. We had real conversations, and you looked at me with your real eyes, and you let yourself act like you really cared about me.”

Garak took a measured breath to subdue the emotions bubbling through his chest. “Doctor, we talk all the time, and I have but one set of eyes. Surely after all this time you know that I consider you a valued friend.”

Bashir raked his fingers through his hair and huffed another breath of frustration. “You’re doing it now! We’re talking, yes, but you’re hiding behind your damned Cardassian politeness, and you lie to me all the goddamn time! Sometimes I still feel you with me — really _with_ me — when we’re fucking, but you retreat immediately. Why can’t you ever be honest about anything?”

Garak steeled his face. “I’m going to get myself a Rokassa juice from the replicator. Would you like some tea?”

Bashir threw up his hands in frustration, then slumped back in his chair. “Sure,” he said flatly.

Garak retrieved the drinks and handed Bashir his tea. They sipped in silence for a moment.

“Thank you,” Bashir finally said, his voice cold.

Garak smiled and offered a brief nod of acknowledgement. “I value our arrangement, Julian. Please do not doubt that.”

Bashir just stared at him over his tea, looking exhausted. Garak could tell the young man was gathering himself to push the conversation further.

Eager to sidestep the topic at hand, Garak continued. “You look tired. The trip to Bajor is nearly three hours long, and I’m quite capable of piloting the runabout. Would you like to get some sleep?”

Bashir held his gaze, anger swirling in his hazel eyes. “If you’re not willing to talk, that’s probably the best use of my time.” He stood stiffly.

It wouldn’t do to conduct their investigation at the orphanage when the two of them were clearly at odds. He wished to smooth the waters so as to not draw further attention than a Starfleet human and a Cardassian already would.

Garak smiled at Julian, coy.“The _best_ use of our time certainly doesn’t involve much talking,” he purred. When Julian didn’t throw the suggestion back in Garak’s face, the Cardassian got to his feet, stepped up to the young human, and slid his arms around him. “I feel I owe you something nice for that amazing orgasm in your office today.”

Bashir felt unyielding in Garak’s arms, but the man’s eyes studied him closely, waiting.

Garak leaned in, nuzzling Bashir’s neck softly. “We have two and a half hours. How about a massage, a screaming orgasm, and a nap?”

Bashir didn't answer, so Garak elaborated, kissing body parts as he named them.

“I’ll wring all the tension out of your shoulders, your neck, your scalp, your hands.” He drew back to look into Julian’s eyes, lightly kneading his lower back. “Your hips, your back, your ass, your feet.” He gripped Bashir’s hips with the bruising strength he knew made the young man hard. “And then I’ll massage your thighs until you’re hard and dripping. I’ll stroke and suck your gorgeous cock and finger your perfect ass until you come for me.” He pressed his hips against Bashir and found the human already half hard. “And then you can sleep the rest of the way to Bajor.”

Bashir studied Garak for a long moment, then sighed. “Fine,” he said, voice tight with frustration.

________

By the time Garak reached Bashir’s feet, Julian would have had a hard time arguing that he still felt angry. Instead, his muscles felt like they were glowing, and his cock pulsed beneath him in deep, languid arousal. Frustration and self-loathing could wait. Garak’s hands were demanding all of Julian’s attention. 

As Garak’s strong, oiled thumbs pressed firmly into the arch of Bashir’s foot, the human moaned loudly, the sound trailing off into a whimper. “ _Fuck_ that feels good,” he breathed, squirming slightly as new waves of arousal spread through him.

“Mm,” Garak replied quietly, continuing his work.

Bashir felt cool fingers stroke the spaces between his toes, and he whimpered again. “ _Garak,_ my god that’s incredible.”

“Are human feet an erogenous zone, Julian?” Garak asked, fingers masterfully manipulating a sore part of Bashir’s heel. Bashir sighed as gooseflesh spread across his body.

“No,” Bashir said, then considered his answer. “Or, I guess, they can be? I don’t really think of it often, but I dated a man during my undergraduate studies who had a foot fetish. He’d often massage my feet as part of foreplay because it turned him on so much, and sometimes he’d suck my toes or kiss my arches while he fucked me. I guess I still have some ready associations?”

“Interesting. And you enjoyed this?”

“I haven’t gone out of my way to find partners interested in feet, but yes, I enjoyed it. The feet are full of nerves, so there’s a great deal of potential for pleasure.”

“May I use my mouth on your feet?” Garak asked, kneading the ball of Julian’s foot.

Julian was surprised. Garak was usually so domineering even when he was being — for him — tender. Bashir shivered at the gesture. “If you’d like to, I happily consent.”

Julian moaned as he felt Garak’s tongue glide from heel to toe on his right foot, lingering to trace circles over the arch. Lips kissed the sensitive underside of his toes before closing around several middle toes. Bashir cried out, and his cock pulsed as Garak’s tongue slipped between his toes, exploring the spaces between them.

“Garak,” he gasped. He felt almost incoherent with need. He’d enjoyed foot worship with his college lover, but this was _Garak._ The thrill of Garak’s desire was almost more intoxicating than the sensations produced by that clever Cardassian tongue. His head spun. “That feels so fucking _good_.”

Garak sucked gently at Bashir’s toes, and the human realized through the haze of overwhelming stimulation that he was grinding his hips against the mat and floor beneath him. “Finger me,” Julian whined, parting his legs farther to give the older man access.

A cool hand caressed the back of Bashir’s thigh, gradually working closer to his ass. He keened and tilted his hips needfully as Garak’s skillful mouth sucked and teased Bashir’s sensitive toes. When an oiled fingertip brushed Julian’s asshole, he squirmed and lifted his hips even more, offering himself. Bashir felt Garak’s mouth leave his toes. He was formulating a complaint when the feeling of Garak’s tongue fluttering against his asshole made him cry out in pleasure.

Garak quickly worked the tip of his tongue into Julian. Bashir was always surprised by how deeply this strong, uniquely cool tongue could reach. He felt Garak’s tongue wriggling, gently stretching the ring of muscle, as a hand began massaging the opposite foot. Bashir sighed deeply, letting the sensations wash over him: Garak fucking him with that rough, thick tongue. Pulling out occasionally to lave over the heated flesh around Bashir’s opening. Garak caressing his foot with a strong, cool hand. Pressure built inside Julian, and a series of whimpers and moans bubbled from his throat to relieve the tension. A choked sob interrupted Bashir’s long moan of ecstasy when a cool finger replaced Garak’s tongue.

Garak returned to sucking the second foot as he fingered Julian. The human keened. “Another finger, please,” he breathed. His cock pulsed and dripped, and it jumped when he felt Garak comply. Thick fingers stretched him, sliding deliciously as he relaxed around them.

Suddenly, Garak pulled his fingers and mouth away, and Bashir felt himself rolled into his back. Freed from beneath his body, Bashir’s cock visibly twitched as it throbbed. “Garak,” he pleaded, rolling his hips slightly. The mouth closed over his arch as fingers pressed back inside him, thrusting rapidly. He whimpered when he felt Garak’s fingers curl, massaging his prostate.

“Oh _fuck_ Garak, wait, wait, don’t make me come yet. I want you to fuck me.”

Without releasing Julian’s foot, Garak positioned himself between Bashir’s legs. The Cardassian paused, slipping the fingers of his free hand inside the lips of his ajan. Bashir could see the older man sliding his fingers the way Julian had learned made him evert almost instantly. The heat and pressure between his legs grew to an almost unbearable pitch as he watched Garak touch himself, lips wrapped around Julian’s big toe, sucking it in a way that felt more erotic than he’d ever imagined it could. “Please!” he cried, a dribble of precum dripping down the overheated length of his cock.

Finally, Garak’s prUt slipped free, glistening in the dimmed light of the runabout. Julian felt tears welling up in his eyes as Garak held his gaze and pressed himself inside Julian. Julian threw an arm over his eyes, not wanting Garak to see and ruin the moment.

Eyes closed, his world narrowed to a flashing kaleidoscope of sparkling nerves. Bolts of pleasure surged and merged through his lower body, achingly familiar where Garak penetrated him and dizzyingly new where the older man sucked the sensitive skin beneath his toes. He felt Garak lean over him, fucking him hard, one smooth leg over a ridged shoulder and the other pinned back so the Cardassian could keep his mouth around it as he thrust.

“Oh fuck, yes!” Bashir soon lost coherence as Garak picked up speed. The older man pounded into him harder and faster than he could remember in a year of regular trysts. Julian became a rag doll beneath the brutal force of Garak’s snapping hips, but relaxed as he was, all he could feel was the delicious combination of Garak’s prUt pounding his prostate so savagely and Garak’s tongue teasing so exquisitely the sensitive parts of his feet he’d all but forgotten about.

When Garak’s free hand closed around Julian’s cock, the young man screamed, coming so hard he almost blacked out. As his body clamped down around Garak’s prUt, the Cardassian quietly cried out.

“Fucking fill me with your cum,” Bashir moaned, still riding the crest of his orgasm. “I want to leak cum for a week.” A moment later, he felt heat surge through him as Garak came inside him. Julian squirmed, luxuriating in the filthy feeling of being covered in his own cum and brimming full of Garak’s, as he came down from one of the greatest orgasms he could remember.

Garak braced an arm on either side of Bashir, panting. Julian encircled Garak’s torso with his arms and legs and pulled him down to rest on top of him.

Garak looked at him in surprise, suddenly wary.

“Just be here for a moment,” Bashir said quietly. He felt the older man relax slightly. They rolled to lie facing one another.

“Go to sleep, Julian,” Garak murmured softly, kissing the human’s eyelids. Julian sighed, too spent to argue. He clasped Garak’s hand with his own, kissed it, and held it against his chest. Stillness reigned for several long moments, and Bashir drowsed. As he drifted into sleep, he felt Garak slip away.

_________

Back on the runabout, Garak set about examining the data he had retrieved from the orphanage. “Computer, set up a data bank, cross-referencing age groups, sex, and year of adopt-“

“Computer,” Bashir sighed, exasperated, “disregard that request and shut down all engines.”

Garak froze, then drew a steadying breath. “I'm sorry you're upset about the orphans.” He swiveled to face the human, who sat slumped back against his seat. “Children without parents have no status in Cardassian society. The situation is most unfortunate, but I don't make the rules.”

“But you _do_ play the game, _don't_ you, Garak?” Bashir snapped as he turned toward Garak. “And there _is_ a game being played right now, as we speak, isn't there?”

Garak looked at him, face guarded, showing only a vague wryness. _I dare say we aren’t just talking about Cardassian war orphans._ Garak waved a hand. “There are always games, Doctor.”

“The trouble is,” Bashir spat, voice tight, “I don't have the slightest idea what this game is about. So you're going to tell me what's going on inside that _plain_ and _simple_ head of yours, my Cardassian friend, or we're going to sit here until we rot!”

Garak suppressed a sigh and a giggle, both of which rose unbidden to his throat. _The layers._ “Tell me, Doctor, why do you think the Cardassians left Bajor?” he asked, cocking his head coyly.

“Gul Dukat said it was a decision made by your civilian leaders.”

“And isn't it _interesting_ that one of Cardassia's most notable civilian leaders has recently entered this scenario.” Garak tilted his head again, pleased that Bashir seemed focused on Rugal again.

“Rugal's father?” Bashir considered for a moment. “You're saying Kotan Pa'Dar was involved in the decision to evacuate Bajor?”

“Very _good,_ Doctor,” Garak purred, and he found he couldn’t resist a jab. “I'm glad to see our little get-togethers haven't gone for naught.”

Bashir ignored him, still mulling over Rugal and Pa’Dar. “Which makes him a political enemy of Gul Dukat's. Who lost his job as Prefect when they withdrew!”

Garak warmed with pleasure to see the young man put the pieces together so cleverly. He was proud of Julian, but the man’s brilliance tended to arouse more than pride. He could feel a throb begin between his legs. “And _seemingly_ out of nowhere, Dukat takes an interest in this orphan boy who recently arrives on our station. And then soon afterwards, with Gul Dukat's assistance, we discover that the orphan boy isn't _really_ an orphan boy, but Pa'Dar's long-lost son.”

Bashir furrowed his brow. “Another coincidence?”

Garak stood, aching to touch the young man before him. “I believe in coincidences,” he said, controlling his voice as best he could. “Coincidences happen every day.” His eyes skimmed Bashir’s uniform, imagining the lithe body beneath. “But I don't _trust_ coincidences.”

Bashir looked up at him, lost in thought.

Garak took a step closer. “My dear,” he murmured, brushing Bashir’s hair back. He was surprised when he felt a warm hand grasp his own, stilling it.

“No,” Bashir said, his voice quiet but firm. “I can’t do this with you right now.”

Garak withdrew his hand. He studied Bashir’s face. Julian looked tired, sad, and oddly resigned. “Of course,” Garak responded lightly. “Another time.” He turned to return to his seat.

A silence stretched for several minutes before Bashir spoke again. “I have to figure out if there’ll be another time,” he finally said, almost too quietly. “Down on Bajor, I realized how little I know about you. We’ve been spending time together for a year. Your distance recently has felt like you're retreating from me. But now I wonder if you’ve just become more honest about the distance that was always there.”

Garak waited, and after a long moment, Bashir continued. “And I know those are the terms we set. But I have to think about whether it makes sense for me to continue — this — when maybe I’ve been evaluating it from an erroneous starting point.” Bashir rubbed a hand over his forehead and hair. “I don’t think it does. Make sense, I mean.”

When Julian finally met Garak’s eyes, the shiny redness at the edges pierced Garak’s heart with an intensity he hadn’t expected. Garak nodded. “I see.”

Bashir stared at him, eyes searching. “Let’s, um. Let’s have lunch in a month’s time. I just really need to clear my head.”

Garak made himself continue breathing, and years of training allowed him to maintain a calm expression. “Of course, Doctor. Take whatever time you need.”

Bashir searched Garak’s eyes. Garak steadied himself. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to take Julian into his arms and cradle that smooth, precious body against his own. He wanted to kiss him and tell him he hadn’t imagined their intimacy. He wanted to ask Julian to fuck him, to take him, to use him, here where no one could hear or know except the two of them. He wanted to spread himself open for this beautiful young man, to feel Julian come inside his ajan, to kiss the delicate flesh of the human’s long neck as his orgasm rocked him. He wanted to twine their legs together and stroke sweat-damp, wavy, dark hair until they fell asleep together, drifting in the comforting silence of space.

Instead, Garak turned back to his control panel. “We should prepare to speak to Commander Sisko regarding our findings on Bajor.”


End file.
